


Never Been Collared

by zoostitcher89



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, Discipline, Dubious Consent, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoostitcher89/pseuds/zoostitcher89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk has never let a top wrap a collar around his neck. Not ever. And Star Fleet is ok with that, even with him being a Captain, so long as he follows the rules and gets topped regularly. But when he's caught in flagrant violation of this rule, Spock swoops in and snaps Jim up, with a little help from McCoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! My first AU BDSM piece! I have a couple dozen pages written, so I'll post a little every day till I catch up to myself, then things will slow down as far as posting. I have no idea how long this will end up, but I have the distinct feeling that I need to add more plot. Damn!

Commander Spock stood at the door of the ship’s CMO, for no better words, hesitating. Procrastination is illogical, he admonished himself, and pressed the buzzer.

“Come in!” yelled McCoy. When Spock stepped through the door, he spotted McCoy’s submissive strung up in the corner of the office. She was blindfolded, and the bondage sleeves stretching up to her elbows pulled her up onto her toes. A web of wires surrounded her, and even as Spock watched, she brushed one with her arm. She jumped, yelping, and straightened her posture in an effort to keep well away from the current. Spock had to appreciate the artistry of the predicament the submissive was in. 

“How can I help you, Mr. Spock?” McCoy asked, pulled Spock’s attention back to the present.

“I came to inform you that the Captain is in violation of Starfleet regulation C-6.06. As disciplinarian of the Senior Staff, I felt it prudent to inform you before the Dungeon Notice came in,” Spock replied. 

McCoy frowned, picking up his PADD and looking through the Dungeon Database. Spock was correct: Jim hadn’t reported to the Dungeon in nearly four weeks. Another two days and Jim would have wound up in here and he would have had to have noted the breech of regulation in his file, “I thought Jim had been a little testy lately, and this explains it. Thank you, Mr. Spock. Two more days and it would have been open season among the Doms on this ship. I’m sure Jim’ll thank you as well once I’ve finished with him and he’s in a more appropriate frame of mind,” McCoy said, mouth set in a grim line. 

“You have hit upon the other reason I wished to speak with you, Doctor. You are aware that I have been considering taking the Captain as my submissive for some time?” Spock queried.

McCoy smiled wryly, “I’m aware. I was pretty sure Jim was about dying to take you to bed. I thought he’d gotten over his crush these last few weeks, but clearly there’s something else going on. Why do you ask?”

“I feel that the Captain requires a dominant at this time, especially considering the blatant disregard for his health he is currently demonstrating,” McCoy nodded in agreement, “I believe I should step up the pace of my courtship and collar him, however, if he is currently as unstable as the evidence suggests, he is unlikely to accept my suit, despite his clear need.”

One of McCoy’s eyebrows went up and a slow smirk crossed his lips, “I see where you’re going with this, and I couldn’t agree more. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you, Doctor McCoy.”

******************************************

James T. Kirk was sitting in his chair on the Bridge with a ferocious headache, one that had been lingering for the last three days. The PADD he was working on blurred in front of his eyes, and he had to stop himself from rubbing them. Any sign of fatigue or strain would have Spock on him to report to Sickbay these days. He wasn’t sure if Spock was trying to Dom him subtly or if he was simply concerned, but it was feeding into the resentful mood that had been building for over a week. 

The Comm on the arm of his chair chirped suddenly. Jim winced when it made his head throb, but dutifully answer it, “This is Kirk.”

“Captain Kirk, I’d like you to swing by Sickbay after your shift,” came the voice through the Comm.

“Anything going on Bones?” he replied.

“Oh, nothing official, but there’s something I’d like you to look at down here.”

“Can do, Bones. I’ll be down at the beginning of Beta,” with a smile, Kirk switched off the feed. Talking to Bones always made him feel better. Maybe he could even wheedle something for his headache without too many questions. 

*******************************************

By the time Alpha shift was over and Jim made it to McCoy’s office, he was visibly drooping. McCoy immediately stood when he walked in, pulling his tricorder out of his desk. In a moment, he was frowning sternly.

“Jim Kirk, what is the meaning of this?” 

Uh oh. That was definitely Bones’ Dom voice. Having spent a fair bit of time over his friend’s knee after hearing that voice, Jim smartened right up, “W-what do you mean, Bones?”

“Don’t you ‘Bones’ me, young man,” oh, dear, Jim though guiltily, the pointed finger is never a good thing, “You’re dehydrated, haven’t eaten all day, and I’m willing to bet short on sleep.“

A hand went self-consciously to the back of Jim’s neck, “Sorry, Bones. Guess the headache I’ve got put me a little out of sorts,” Now look pathetic, and give him those sad, puppy dog eyes.

McCoy looked less than amused. Before Jim could so much as flinch, McCoy had a hypo out of his desk, loaded, and sharply applied to the side of his neck. 

“Ow! Bones…” Jim whined, but his headache was already receding.

But McCoy just looked satisfied, “Now, would you care to explain this?” he asked Jim almost sweetly, holding out a PADD. 

Taking the offered device warily, Jim glanced at its contents and blanched. It was a copy of his file from the Dungeon Database. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Jim tried a meek, “Sorry?”

McCoy snorted, “Well that ain’t gonna cut it,” and walked over to his desk again. He pulled out three hypos, making Jim groan. Hearing that, McCoy fixed Jim with a stern look that made him gulp, “Come here, Jim.”

Mincing over to where Bones stood, Jim tried the puppy dog look again. Supremely unaffected, McCoy pressed the first hypo to his neck, “For the dehydration,” Hiss, “For the lack of food,” Hiss, “And just to generally bring your blood sugar back somewhere reasonable,” Hiss, “Now, sit down before you fall down.”

Jim did as he was told, settling on the stool McCoy kept behind his desk for Christine, his submissive.

McCoy continued, “Now, per Starfleet regulation C-6.06, you, as an unclaimed submissive, are required to report to the Dungeon for a session at least once a week. Should you go two weeks without doing so, you are required to report to your disciplinary officer for ten swats with the paddle,” McCoy fixed him with another glare, “I don’t know how my notification went awry, and I’m not going to ask, but before we’re done here, I expect you to tell me. 

“Also according to Starfleet regulation, should you go four weeks without a session, you may be declared unfit for duty, and any Dom who so desires may apply to me for a locking collar to put on you, with or without your consent. Now I know that no submissive likes these regulations, but they are necessary for the health and safety of the crew. So why are you in violation?” McCoy asked, his hand suddenly shooting up to grip Jim’s ear.

“Ow ow ow!! Bones! Sorry! I just… I felt really off, and not in the mood.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re ‘in the mood,’ Jim. You need to be dominated for your own health and well-being. Neglecting it can have serious consequences for you mental health, as you well know. Well, we’ll have a more in depth conversation about why once I’ve got you over my knee. Oh, yes, you’re going to get a thorough spanking, all right. You’ll be squirming right over my knee, and position I know you just loathe. And by the time we’re done, hopefully we’ll have a few of these issues worked out,” with that McCoy hauled Jim up, and before he moved away from the desk, he reached into the top drawer for a short switch and a small, round paddle with holes drilled in it. 

McCoy switched his grip on Jim to his elbow and dragged him over to the low punishment seat allow the wall. Roughly the size of a park bench, it had places to clip restraints at convenient locations. Settling himself in the middle, McCoy drew Jim to stand next to his right knee. Jim was already whimpering slightly as the scene was set for his upcoming punishment, but he was also already disrobing as required, pants and briefs down all the way to his ankles. McCoy set the two implement on the far left end of the bench and reached behind his back for the wide bondage belt and thigh restraint hanging on the wall. Swiftly and wordlessly, he wrapped the belt around Jim’s waist, securing it and giving it a few tugs to check the fit and ensure it wouldn’t come loose. 

“Legs together,” McCoy intoned, and Jim put his feet right next to each other. McCoy then wrapped the thigh restraint loosely just above the knee and clipped a strap up onto the belt so it didn’t immediately slide down Jim’s legs. 

“Now, over my knee,” Jim did as he was told slowly, settling over McCoy’s lap with his bottom just onto his right thigh, “You know better. Get over properly,” whimpering submissively again, Jim slid all the way across McCoy’s lap, until his bottom was arched over McCoy’s left leg and his chest was supported by the bench, his head hanging out into open space. 

With that accomplished, McCoy tightened the thigh restraint completely, again tugging to check the fit. He then clipped the belt and the thigh restraint to the bench, securing Jim completely in place over his lap, “I’m going to leave you arms free, but if you put your hands back, I’ll tie them in front of you and switch your thighs. Now, are you comfortable?” Jim squirmed a little in place then nodded silently. Well, let him be silent. He’ll be bellowing and hollering before long, McCoy thought to himself. 

Bones smoothed one hand down Jim’s back soothingly, and patted his bottom with the other. Jim shivered and whined submissively again. Placing his left hand firmly on the belt, McCoy raised his right hand and began a set of firm, stinging swats across the broadest part of Jim’s ass. Each swat brought a little color to those firm cheeks, making the flesh jiggle in response. A set of ten went down low on Jim’s bottom. He paused, smoothing his hand across the stinging heat, then began to spank more firmly all over. Jim shifted his legs a little and clenched his cheeks and fists tightly before relaxing them again. McCoy moved the warm up down both of Jim’s shapely thighs, stopping at the midpoint and stroking gently again. 

“Have I got your attention, Jim?”

“Yes, sir,” came the meek reply. 

“Good,” he said, before raising his hand even higher and beginning in earnest. Now each slap rocked Jim forward a little as McCoy applied them slowly, again focusing on the broadest portion of Jim’s ass. Pause. Apply hand to lower portion of the ass before him. Pause. Focus ten swats on the now-thoroughly pink left cheek. Pause. Ten swats to the right cheek. Pause. Ten alternating swats applied down low. 

Several minutes of this deliberate spanking had Jim whimpering and squirming continuously. He had clenched his hands dutifully on the edge of the bench to keep himself from reaching back. McCoy turned his attention back to his thighs, turning them the same dark pink of his ass. Finally, McCoy reached for the paddle next to Jim’s shoulder. Jim made an abortive movement to intercept him, but stopped himself and clenched his hands tightly together under his chin.

“Good boy,” McCoy said, stopping to ruffle his hair, “Don’t forget about the switch.” Jim knew, having been over Bones’ knee many times before that having his thighs switched was something to be ardently avoided. The last time he'd had his thighs switched, the welts hadn’t faded for days. 

Then the small paddle was patting his ass. Clenching his hands even tighter, Jim knew this would be the worst part. Bones was an expert with the paddle, and each swat would be applied slowly and for maximum effect. The whole thing would take about five long minutes, and he’d spend about four and a half of them howling his head off.

The first paddle swat came down low on his ass, right where he sat, then the second, and the third. In fact, Bones wasn’t budging from that extremely tender area, and it was getting to him fast. He began yelping, kicking his legs below the knee helplessly. The yelps slowly morphed into one long yell, and then his eyes were tearing up, his face flushed red with exertion. He clenched his teeth, groaning between them, and involuntarily clenched his hind cheeks. This only made the sting worse, but he couldn’t relax his muscles despite his mind’s desperate command to do so. His eyes stung, and burned, and then he was sobbing. Finally he was able to unclench a little, but Bones was tireless and the swats. Just. Kept. Coming.

McCoy was very satisfied with the way Jim was coming along. He stopped, resting the paddle on Jim’s thighs, “Jim, are you listening, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, siiirrrrr,” sobbed the very sorry little boy over his knee.

“Good boy. Now, I want you to tell me why you didn’t report to the Dungeon like you were supposed to.”

“May I rub, s-sir?” came the shaky question.

“No, you may not,” McCoy replied sternly, but relented enough to set down the paddle and stroke down the hot flanks before him. Not enough to take any of the sting out, but enough to calm Jim down a bit.

Jim blubbered, “T-thank you, sir.”

“Why, Jim?” McCoy repeated patiently. The bundle over his lap squirmed and avoided looking at him guiltily, “Jim,” he repeated warningly, patting the flesh under his hand firmly.

“Sorry, sorry! I-I… My mom called,” Jim said shakily.

McCoy sighed. That explained a lot, actually. Commander Winona Kirk was very disappointed that Jim was a submissive. After her husband and submissive died in the first encounter with the Narada, she had become a different woman, and became renowned for her distaste and disrespect for subs. Although she had been reprimanded for her behavior on multiple occasions, it didn’t stop her from taking the worst of her spite out on the son that so resembled the submissive she had loved and lost. A call from her would leave Jim hating he submissive parts of himself, and would certainly make him avoid expressing them. 

“Kid, I don’t have to tell you how I feel about your mom. You’ve heard what I think often enough,” Jim let out a watery laugh at that, “But you are not,” McCoy picked up the paddle again, “Allowed to neglect yourself because of what she says or thinks about you being a submissive. Am I clear?” And with that, McCoy brought down a powerful strike on the broadest part of Jim’s ass. 

Jim howled, “Clear! Clear, sir!”

Pressing his lips together grimly, McCoy began the hardest portion of Jim’s punishment. All of these swats would go across the part of Jim’s ass where the flesh was thickest. This was the only part of Jim that he would apply the full strength of his arm with the paddle. Left cheek, right cheek, across both, McCoy set a rhythm that was faster than the one he’d been using before. This was the punishment that drove the lesson home, and McCoy was damn sure going to make sure this one stuck. 

Jim strained against his bonds, tried to squirm and levitate off Bones’ lap. Several times he almost reached back. Always he was yelling. It hurt, burned, scorched his rear end, and he couldn’t take it. Surely Bones would stop, see that he couldn’t take it, and let him off? But the paddling continued. On and on and on. 

McCoy was sure that this felt like eternity squared to Jim, but he was only going to apply forty swats this way. Already the skin was near blistering, and Jim was sobbing and hollering his heart out. With only ten swats to go, McCoy paused, retook his aim slightly lower, so as to catch Jim’s sit spots in these final swats. He pulled a little of his strength from these, not, he was sure, that Jim could tell. If possible, Jim’s voice went up another few decibels, crying even harder. But then it was over. 

McCoy was proud of Jim: he’d cried, sure, but through one of the hardest spankings he’d ever given Jim, he’d never once reached back, “Alright, Jim, shhhh, it’s over.”

Bones wasn’t sure Jim heard him, so he carefully unclipped the restraints and drew Jim into his arms, careful to keep Jim’s hot flesh away from any contact. Jim buried his head into McCoy’s shoulder, crying slowly winding down over several minutes. Finally, Jim was limp in his arms, only the occasional hitched breath and silent tear showing his continued distress. Still, for long minutes Bones did nothing but rock him.

A small, slightly raspy voice peeped up from McCoy’s shoulder, “Ow, Bones!”

Bones smiled a little, “You deserved every swat, brat.” Jim’s lower lip stuck out in an adorable pout at that, “Shall we move to the couch?” A blond head nodded against his shoulder. Bracing himself, Bones lifted Jim carefully and carried him across the spacious office to settle on the blue velveteen couch. He laid Jim on the couch, then settled beside him and pulled Jim’s head into his lap. 

“Bones?”

“Yes, Jim?”

“I-I reprogrammed your computer terminal to make sure you didn’t get that notice about m-me.”

“I know, sweetheart. Thank you for telling me. And I’m going to make you un-program it. Later.”

“O-okay,” Jim winced. Knowing Bones, he’d probably be sitting on a freshly spanked bottom while he did. Nothing too drastic, but enough “reminder swats” to refresh the burn from this spanking. 

“One more thing, Jim,” Bones hesitated, and Jim perked up with interest, “Clearly you need closer supervision. Now, if I didn’t have Christine, I’d probably take you on, because believe me sweetie, you need it. But I’m a one-sub type of Dom. So here are your options: since we took care of this off the record, I can’t officially recommend this without raising some questions from the brass, but you can either start reporting to the Dungeon every other day, with me organizing a program I think will keep you on track, or you can accept a collar,” Jim shivered. He didn’t want a collar. Doms had too much control about your career and lifestyle for his comfort. In all his life, he’d never accepted one. On the other hand, that kind of strict, scheduled domination in the Dungeon sounded very unpleasant. 

“Any other options?” Jim asked sourly.

Bones reached down and gave him a light swat, making him yelp, “It’s entirely too soon after that spanking for you to be giving me lip, boy.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Better. Slide up over my lap again, and we’ll talk about it. It’s time to get some cold gel on that hind end of yours,” Jim obeyed, and Bones reached for the cooling gel in the small refrigerating unit next to the couch. Popping the cap, he poured a dollop into his hand and began smoothing it over hot skin. Jim yelped, then all but purred as the sting and burn faded. 

“Okay, so here’s how today would go with each option: if you pick the Dungeon, after we finish talking, you would report there immediately. I’ve already told them to hold a three hour slot for you just in case.”

Jim turned wide eyes on him, “Three hours? But Bones, that’s an eternity in the Dungeon, and the average appointment only lasts one hour! Three hours of deep submission?!”  
A stern frown was directed Jim’s way, “You need it after nearly four weeks without subbing. And it won’t be three hours of deep submission. I’ve already put together a program for you. First, you’d have your hand tied behind you and you’d be hand-fed a light, healthy meal on your knees. I had rather suspected you weren’t eating when I called you down here. Then they’d put you over a bench and apply more cooling gel. Then…”

“Bones! No!” Jim whined. A sharp slap to his behind silenced him. 

“Your other option is to accept the collar that’s been offered to you.”

Jim was silent a long moment, struggling, “Whose collar?”

“Spock’s,” Jim looked at McCoy, startled once again. Then he looked down at the carpet, his chin on his crossed arms. 

“Can- can I think about that? I don’t- collaring is a really big deal to me,” Jim asked quietly. 

“Sure, kid. Tell you what, let’s get you something to drink, and then I’ll walk you down to the Dungeon, make sure you’re set.”

Jim’s head whipped up, “But you said-“

“I said you had two options today, and at least for today, you’re stuck, unless you want to accept Spock’s collar. In two days, you’ll come back here, and we’ll either go back down to the Dungeon for a two hour session, or we’ll go to Spock’s quarters. And we’ll keep doing that till you make up your mind or I think you're stable again,” McCoy finished firmly. Jim made a small sound of protest in his throat, but wisely didn’t voice it. 

Gently petting the blond head for a moment, Bones stood and moved to the replicator on the wall and got a glass of water and a wet cloth for his face. He made Jim awkwardly sort of sit up and drink the whole thing down before redressing him, making Jim wince and whimper. A final hug, and Jim shakily began to walk towards the door, McCoy right behind him.


	2. Cupcake

The very lowest deck, the Dungeon, had very few people in the waiting room. Most subs had set appointments, so there was rarely any wait. Lieutenant Barry Giotto was waiting for them by the door to the back rooms, and he moved to greet them when they walked through the door. 

McCoy shook his hand and smiled wryly, “Special delivery. Just like we talked about, now, but if you could add a second, heavier meal to the last hour? He hasn’t eaten all day. And make sure he gets plenty of fluids throughout, he’s still somewhat dehydrated.”

“Of course, Doctor.”

Jim sputtered beside him, “Cupcake?! You’re giving me over to Cupcake?!”

McCoy shook his head and turned to Giotto, “As you can see, he’s in quite the mood. He really needs this, but don’t let the fact that he’s already had a full paddling from me stop you from putting him in his place if he gives you trouble.”

Giotto smirked, “Not a problem. Come on, Captain. You know the drill. Once we’re through those doors to the back rooms, you’re no longer the Captain, just a submissive rather badly in need of taking down,” gripping Jim’s upper arm in a firm hand, he pulled him along. Jim looked back at McCoy, desperate for last minute salvation, but McCoy just waved good bye cheerfully.

As soon as the doors swished closed behind them, Jim was turned and shoved into the wall, a hand in his hair turning his face away from the impact. Jim grunted, then had to stifle a whimper as his hands were pulled behind his back and wrists locked into sturdy leather cuffs. Pulled off the wall again, Jim offered no resistance as he was led into a small dining room and pushed down onto a kneeling pad next to the table. Giotto went to the replicator and swiped a card that McCoy had palmed him before he left. A small plate with raw fruits and vegetables and a whole grain roll came out, as well as a tall glass of milk with a straw. 

Giotto settled into an armless wooden chair next to Jim’s kneeling pad and set the plate and glass on the oak table. Jim’s hair was again gripped in a large fist and his head drawn backwards. Giotto looked at him seriously, clearly falling quickly into his topspace. 

“Are you going to give me trouble tonight, submissive?”

Jim started to shake his head, but with his hair gripped so tightly he settled for meekly stating, “No, sir,” and dropping his eyes to the table leg. 

“Good,” and then a fork with a bite of melon on it was pressed to his lips, “Open.”

Jim opened his mouth and began quietly eating whatever was offered to him, even the vegetables. He didn’t have the energy left to be a brat tonight, and he found that he was actually hungry. Occasionally the straw to the milk would also be held up to his lips, and he would drink for as long as it was held to his mouth. Slowly the tension seeped out of his muscles as every decision was made for him and all he had to do was submit and chew.

When the plate was empty, Giotto stood him up and unclipped the wrist cuffs from each other. When Jim let his arms fall to the side, he was ordered to strip. He tensed up a bit, but did as ordered slowly, Giotto taking every piece of clothing from his hands. When Jim stood as naked as the day he was born, blushing slightly at Cupcake’s scrutiny, Giotto turned away and placed his clothes on a chair in the corner. When he returned, Giotto began a thorough inspection of Kirk’s body, starting at the top and working down. His ears were checked for wax, his eyes examined for redness, his teeth for cleanliness. His nipples were tweaked, his ribs counted, and his fingernails inspected, and everything commented upon, demanding Kirk take better care of himself. When Giotto reached his ass, he whistled softly.

“Damn, but Doctor McCoy was angry with you. You’re going to have some nice bruises,” Jim heard a lid pop open, “Over the table, submissive.”

Slowly Kirk bent at the waist, setting his arms from elbow to palm flat on the table. A hand pushed him down until his entire torso was pressed to the cool surface. Jim flushed as he felt a draft brush over the newly exposed bits of his most intimate areas. 

“Very charming, submissive. It really must have been a long time if you’re blushing when a top looks you over. Wrists together in front of you.”

When Jim did so, his wrists were clipped back together. He heard the squelching sound of the gel emptying into Giotto’s palm. A hand came to rest on his back, and the other hand smoothed the gel over the cherry red curves of Jim’s ass. Giotto stood close, leaning into Kirk’s space intimately. A second round of gel was applied, this time to his thighs, and the hand on his back smoothed up and down his back comfortingly. A third round, and a fourth passed by with long minutes spent soothing the gel into the skin, waiting for one coat to be absorbed before applying another. Finally Kirk’s skin couldn’t absorb any more, and the gel remained on his skin for long minutes. When Giotto is satisfied, he patted Kirk’s ass gently and leaned away. Jim stays over the table, not having permission to move.

“Good boy,” Giotto says from the door of an armoire of toys across the room. He returns with a tube of lubricant and a solid looking butt plug with a projection that Jim knew would press his prostate torturously. He sets the latter on the table and begins working Jim open with the former. When he can easily work three fingers in, he withdraws them and slowly pushes the plug into its place. A button is flicked on the end, and a low, continuous vibration starts against his prostate. Giotto waits, leaving a hand at the small of Jim’s back. After thirty seconds of the buzzing, Jim shifts a little trying to move the power of the vibrations at least a little off his prostate. As soon as he does, the buzzing increases automatically. Jumping and clenching, he manages to ratchet it up another notch. It’s still a fairly low to medium vibration, but it’s still striking since it’s directly stimulating him. Jim doesn’t want to think about how much higher it can go. 

Now that he’s made the discovery of how the device works, Giotto moves across the room again. This time he returns with an entire bag of equipment. Jim eyes it warily. The first thing to come out of the bag is a body harness, which he orders Jim to step into. Although Jim does so gingerly, the butt plug still sped up. The harness is pulled up over his shoulders and straps around each of his thighs just above the knee, his waist, between his legs, and his chest across his pecs. Each strap is thoroughly padded. Next, a suspension rig is lowered from the ceiling, and Giotto fixes five pairs of straps of varying lengths to the rig. Jim is put into ankle cuffs and his wrist cuffs are switched for ones with more padding.

“I do not want you to speak during this exercise, submissive. Your safe word is frosting. Otherwise, you may make nonverbal noises, moans, cries, and so on, but no words. Now stand up straight,” Kirk did so, this time managing not to increase the vibration in his ass, but it hardly mattered since it pressed even harder into his prostate. Giotto jerked his head towards the rig, indicating Jim should stand under it. Slowly, carefully, Jim moves under the thing, every step dragging the plug back and forth across his inner gland. Twice he forgets himself and clenches, and the whole thing gets more agonizing. By now the device is a few notches past a medium speed vibrator.   
Wordlessly Giotto clips straps to his wrists, chest, waist, thighs, and ankles, “Ready?” he asks.

Jim braces himself and nods, but he still startles badly when Giotto presses a button on the rig and his feet are pulled out from under him quite suddenly. He is suspended about three feet off the ground in a reclining pose. Giotto ‘hmms’ and makes a few adjustments that actually make Jim more comfortable. His wrists are drawn further apart, as are his ankles, while his thighs are raised and the waist lowered. His arms are a little bit slack, and the majority of his weight is born by his torso and thighs. Then the whole rig is raised until Jim is suspended at about waist height. 

Proprietary hands run over his helpless form, checking straps, circulation, his breathing. Jim watches with whale eyes. Meeting his eyes, Giotto ‘hmms’ again, “Well, that won’t do. Deep breathes now, submissive,” Giotto goes back to the bag on the table and pulls out a blindfold, “Close your eyes and try to relax. I’m not going to hurt you, not even the kind of pain you’d like,” the blindfold is in place, and Jim’s world is dark, “Today is about getting you down to subspace and keeping you there long enough to rejuvenate you a bit. I’m not going to get there by traditional means. I’m just going to take your avenues of escape away until all you can do is submit. I’ve already taken away your voice. Soon, when you’re calmer, I’ll take away your hearing. Then, I’ll give you so much sensation you won’t be able to think, only to accept. And then we’ll stay there for an hour or so. Nod if you understand.”

Jim nodded apprehensively. This wasn’t really the type of submission he was used to. He was used to being shoved into walls, tied down, fucked hard, sometimes spanked or clamped. This slow, seductive trap had him feeling boxed in, herded somewhere he’d never been with a top. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking. You may speak.”

“I’m wondering why Doctor McCoy picked this, and you to do it,” Jim replied quietly. Speaking loudly felt sacrilegious, somehow. 

Jim could hear the smile in Giotto’s voice, “Well, he probably picked me because he felt like you needed this experience, and this is the type of domination I specialize in,” Giotto moved to stand between Kirk’s legs, slowly stroking up and down his thighs, “Doctor McCoy sends submissives to me who, for lack of a better way to put it, haven’t been respecting their own submission. They seek out hurried, harsh encounters with Doms who want to swing their whip, pull some hair, and get off. Sound familiar?”

Strangely, Jim felt safe and hidden behind the blindfold, and he found himself answering honestly, “Maybe. I mean, I’m busy a lot.”

“Tell me something: on average, do your encounters with tops last longer than the normal Dungeon session length?”

Jim shifted in the harness, and regretted it when the vibrator sped up, now starting make his prostate positively ache with desire, “I guess about the same length.”

“See, now I would consider that a rather short session. Really powerful encounters take much more time than that. Now, I think you’re calmer, so I’m going to block your ears in a moment, and now I’d like you to be silent again. A few last instructions: if I hold up anything to your mouth, be it my fingers or a straw, I expect you to open and suck. Second, feel free to wriggle as much as you are able. You’ve already seen the natural consequences of that,” he patted the end of the plug protruding from Kirk’s body, “Finally, just try to accept and enjoy the ride. This will go much easier if you do. And don’t forget your safeword.”

And with that, Jim heard the other man step over to the table, pick something up, and move back to him. Immediately, noise cancelling headphones were fitted over his ears, and the world suddenly became a lot smaller. Jim felt his breathing speed up again, but then there were soothing hands running down side heaving sides, gentling him. Slowly, Jim matched his breathing to the pace of the strokes, which became slower and slower, until he was breathing normally again. 

Jim felt like he was floating in his own little world. The only thing he could hear were the sounds inside his body: his heartbeat, his stomach, even the faint buzzing in his rectum, which suddenly felt much further away. And then soft touches began to fall across his body: fur and feathers and skin stroked him in places both intimate and mundane. A fingernail trailed down the crease of his abs. A fur mitt stroked over his ass. A little rubber suction cup pulled on his nipple. Not one touch could Jim anticipate, so slowly, very slowly, Jim leaned back into the straps and let it happen. A gentle hand brushed wetness off his face, and he realized that he had been crying softly, and he could hear his own whimpers echoing through his skull. A straw was placed in his mouth, and he drank a few sips of water before it was drawn away again. Time became meaningless.

Then a switch was flicked on the butt plug, and that part of his anatomy was alive again as the vibrations increased to the highest power setting. His cock ached, and he twisted in the harness, moaning and whining. A firm hand stroked him, pumping slowly, and he sensed Giotto moving between his thighs. Another hand began manipulating the plug inside him, slowly fucking him with it in time with the strokes to his dick. Jim turned his head to the side, panting with desire. A long whine vibrated as it left his throat. Everything felt hot as a super nova, and then he was climaxing as hard as he ever had across his chest. Slowly the strokes stopped, and the vibrations suddenly cut off. A warm towel wiped him clean of his own spunk and sweat, and then the plug was slowly pulled from his body. Soothing hands just stroked him, on and on. 

A short eternity later, hands reached around his head and pulled the noise cancelling headphones off, “I want you to just hang there quietly,” a soft voice rumbled near his left ear. The hands were back, stroking him, and Jim floated. 

Another period of silence, listening to himself breathe, “Okay, I’m going to let you down now, and if you stumble, I’ll be here to catch you.”

Jim could hear the rig as it lowered his thighs and ankles to the floor. Starting with his feet, Giotto unclipped the straps from his cuffs and harness. Jim collapsed a little when his chest straps were undone, but as promised, Giotto bore him up, unclipping his wrists as he did. He was slowly walked across the floor, through what he thought was a door way, and was laid down on a very comfortable couch. A blanket was wrapped around him, and Giotto moved away. 

Jim whimpered in alarm, “Relax. I’m going to go get you some food, but then I’ll be back.”

He listened to Giotto move around the room, and he could smell something hot and delicious coming out of the replicator. He could hear dishes being set down on a table near his head, and then his upper body was being scooped up and leaned back against Giotto. A straw was held up to his mouth again, and he drank more water, several mouthfuls. 

For while, Giotto just held him like that, leaning against a warm chest with arms wrapped around him, and Jim was at peace. 

“Open,” and he did, and a chicken finger was pushed into him mouth, “Bite.” When Jim had chewed and swallowed, another bite was offered, and another. His stomach filled completely for the first time in days on chicken, fries, and buttery, steamed broccoli. More water was offered until he had drained two full glasses. When he was finished, he laid back against Giotto’s chest with a sigh.

“Better? You may speak again,” Giotto asked.

“Yes, sir,” Jim replied, voice very quiet.

“You were a very good boy for me. I didn’t have to punish you once since you came back here with me. You must have been very worn out and needed this very much.”

“Yes, sir. Is it always like that for you?” Jim asked.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, almost… spiritual, maybe?”

“I think I know what you mean. No, not always. Are you saying you’ve never had an experience like that? One where you really connected with the Dom and not just mutually got off?”

Jim shook his head, “No. I’ve never let one collar me, either,” he confided.

“What, never?” Giotto shifted under him, probably staring at Jim’s face, “You can’t be serious. You’ve got to be nearly thirty, and you’ve never stayed with a Dom long enough, or let one close enough?”

Jim just mutely shook his head.

There was a long pause, “I see why Doctor McCoy had me take you down like this today.”

******************************************

Jim sat on the Observation Deck two days later, thinking about the choice Bones had put to him. On one hand, he still didn’t want to risk giving Spock the kind of power a collar would give him. On the other hand, after the session with Giotto (Giotto, of all people!), he sort of wanted the kind of prolonged intimacy that it would imply. After all, hadn’t that scene been the best one he’d ever had? Wouldn’t it be ten times better with someone he really wanted, someone who would get to know him over time?

And he knew, just knew that sooner or later, going to the Dungeon that often would begin to chafe, especially with Bones calling the shots. Usually, unclaimed submissives were granted a measure of control over their sessions to make up for the fact that they were required. Jim had been able to dictate how the scene would go based on what he wanted. They had been shallow, sure, but emotional depth hadn’t been the goal. Now, with McCoy pulling the strings, he couldn’t see that shallowness returning. At least with Spock he could choose his Dom. 

And, well, he’d been having sentimental thoughts lately. He’d taken to watching collared subs out of the corner of his eye, being hand fed by the Doms they shared a plate with, or kneeling with their head on someone’s knee, or walking in the corridor on someone’s leash. And watching them, the picture slowly melted into him and Spock in his mind’s eye. But that was ridiculous! How embarrassing would it be, being made to kneel and scrape in the Mess, not even able to even use a knife and fork on his own? And to be walked on a leash like a- like a dog! How was that befitting of a Captain? He was already the youngest Captain in the ‘Fleet, the last thing he needed was to have people think he was Spock’s pretty little pet. 

But some small, dark corner of his mind that wouldn’t be suppressed wanted all those things. Wanted to be Spock’s sub, walk on his leash, and be lovingly cared for and treasured. Wanted someone to show him he was worth more than a hurried encounter in a dark alley or a bathroom. 

Jim ruthlessly crushed that little voice. 

Well, it was time to go see Bones for his required meeting, anyways. He could always put off his decision another two days.


	3. Spock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here enters Spock. Are you excited? I'm excited.

“Mr. Spock, thank you for coming,” McCoy said professionally.

“Of course, Doctor. I presume you wished to speak of Jim?”

“Got it in one. I’ve been reading over the report Lieutenant Giotto sent me after Jim’s session, and he is of the opinion that it is important for Jim to be collared the soonest. It’s his professional opinion that if Jim rejects you now, he may never form a healthy Dom-sub bond,” McCoy sighed, “As Jim’s doctor, I’m inclined to agree. Jim’s always been wary of getting collared, but if we can’t convince him that his freedom isn’t at risk and that the benefits far outweigh the costs, he may just make up his stubborn mind not to have one.”

“Is the situation really that serious? I was not aware that the Captain had never been collared,” Spock frowned. 

“Oh, he’s got a whole suit of defense mechanisms that he uses to put Doms off. The only reason he hasn’t used them on me is that I’ve never tried to put my collar on him. Are you sure you’re ready to take him on? You’ll have to start him from basic sub training. I’m reasonably sure he’d never even had that.”

Spock considered the new data for a long moment, “I am certain.”

“Then we’ll need to step thing up a notch. Here’s what we’ll do…”

*********************************************

“First things first, Jim. You’re going to undo that nasty bit of programming you did to my terminal,” Bones crooks a finger at him. 

Realizing the next few minutes would see those ‘reminder swats’ he’d predicted, Jim dragged his feet over the carpet as he approached. As soon as he was within reach, McCoy grabs his arm, spins him around, shoves him over his desk, and begins working on the closures to his pants. Wincing, Jim puts his palms flat on the desk, well out of McCoy’s way. His pants come down, followed by his briefs, but only down to mid-thigh. Bones pulls a hairbrush out of his desk and sets it next to Jim, raising his arm high and sending his palm cracking down on Jim’s bruised flesh.

“You SWAT! do NOT Smack! Crack! interfere with the technology I use to monitor your health CRACK! SWAT! SMACK! to get out of a spanking!” With that, Bones picked up the hairbrush and gave him twenty with it, all concentrated down on his tender sit spots. Jim is gasping and his eyes are stinging at the end, but it wasn’t too bad. Then he was being pulled up, hugged, and then pushed down onto the hard wooden stool in front of the terminal. He whined, wriggled, and gave McCoy his best sad eyes, but all he got was a raised eyebrow and a finger pointing him back to the terminal. With a sigh, Jim gets to work. 

A half an hour later, when the last of the worm had been purged from the medical system, Jim was allowed to stand and pull his pants up. The sting was already nearly gone. 

“Now, have you made a decision about whether or not you’re accepting Spock’s collar?” Jim shook his head, “I thought so. Well, I have another session lined up for you at the Dungeon, and we’d better hurry if we’re going to be on time.”

Whistling cheerfully, McCoy led Jim out of the office. Jim looked suspiciously at his back. Something was clearly going on. 

Several decks down, the pair stepped into the waiting room. An ensign was waiting, and handed Bones several pieces of bondage gear. McCoy pulled Jim into the back rooms, entering the one with the St. Andrew’s cross and spanking bench.

“Bones, I don’t like this. You’ve got something up your sleeve,” Jim said, edging away from the doctor as he sorted out a pair of wrist cuffs.

“The Dom who’s running your session today asked me to settle you into your restraints before he arrived. Now start stripping,” McCoy commanded.  
Hesitating, Jim shifted back a step, then another, before turning and making for the door. 

“Hold it right there. You don’t have the option of opting out of this session. Your only options are doing as you’re told right now, reporting directly to Spock’s room, or having me give Admiral Pike a call so that he can order your ass right back into this room, probably after he has me give you a thorough whupping, if I know your old mentor at all,” Bones glared, but then softened a little, “I’m doing this for your own good, Jim. Trust me?”

Slowly, Jim nodded and began sliding off his command gold, “Good boy,” praised McCoy. Pouting, Jim thought, It’s not like you’ve given me a choice, really.  
When he had stripped down to his just his pants and briefs, McCoy said, “That’s good enough. Come here.”

Warily, Jim closed the gap between them. Bones gripped his arm and buckled a familiar set of wrist cuffs onto him. Clipping them together, he ran a rope around the clip and tied a knot. He then ran the slack end over a hook in the ceiling and pulled until Jim’s arms were taunt, stretched above him, barely allowing him to keep his feet flat. A posture collar went around his neck, holding Jim’s chin high and restricting his view of anything below waist level. A very mild pair of nipple clamps were next. Bones only tightened them enough that they would stay firmly in place with mild pressure applied. 

With a smile, Bones went to the door and let someone in. The posture collar prevented him from turning to look, but he heard Bones speaking to whoever it was softly. After a few moments of this, Bones called, “Be a good boy, now!” and left.

Silence descended on the room. Footsteps approached him from behind, stopping just a few inches from his back. Strong hands gripped his hips, pulling them backwards. Jim had to arch his back and balance on his toes to hold this position without falling. Nimble fingers slipped around his front to toy with his fly. Jim began to pant excitedly, his cock responding to the excitement of a stranger overpowering him, as this one so clearly could. A low chuckle sounded behind him as those clever fingers massaged the growing bulge in his pants.

“You are so very responsive. I am pleased,” a low baritone intoned behind him. Jim’s whole body jerked. He knew that voice!

“Spock! You- oh!” Whatever he was going to say was lost as his fly was drawn down and a hot hand was thrust into his briefs. The slow massage resumed, and Jim made a desperate noise in his throat.

“You were expecting someone else. Lieutenant Giotto, perhaps? However, the Doctor and I decided you would benefit more from a session with me, even if you chose not to accept my collar afterwards. However, I calculate an 84.7% probability that you will be amenable to accepting my collar by the time I have finished with you,” Spock said in a low, dark voice, and it made Jim even harder. Spock’s hand left his hip then, and stroked around the posture collar, “Nothing leather, my pet. I am a Vulcan, after all. I have procured a chain that will look stunning wrapped around your throat. And, of course, I have a synthetic leather variation for restraint play.”

A kiss was dropped onto Jim’s shoulder, “Shall I make you come, standing here, inside your trousers?” A spike of lust shot through Jim, and Spock laughed that dark laugh again, 

“Not this time I think, but sometime, if you become mine, I will force you to orgasm in your briefs in your Ready Room, and make you spend the rest of the shift smelling of your own seed.”

Jim was trembling constantly now, still arched in the position Spock had put him. Then his pants and briefs were pulled down so sharply that his cocked bobbed back up and smacked him in the stomach, leaving a small drop of pre-come behind. Then the pants were down around his feet, and Spock was pulling his feet out of them. Something scraped across the carpet, and then his left ankle was locked into a manacle.

“Spread,” Spock commanded, and Jim did, unable to maintain the arched position as he did so. His right ankle was locked into the other manacle of a spreader bar after he had regained his balance. 

“I am an expert with both the cane and the single-tailed whip, though I confess I find the paddle marks Doctor McCoy left to be most fetching. I must acquire a similar paddle. If you become mine, I would, approximately every two weeks, mark you with an implement. It will often be my hand, as I am more than capable of leaving distinct bruises with it.” To prove his point, Spock pulled his arm back and let fly a swat that impacted Jim’s ass with a tremendous crack. A red mark instantly sprang up in its wake shaped like the Vulcan’s open hand. It stung tremendously, and Jim let out a yelp, followed by the most submissive whine he could muster.

“Very good, pet. Your submission pleases me. Now,” he reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair, “I am going to spend the next 1.92 hours dominating you, and at the end of it, you will give me your answer. Are we agreed?” 

“Y-yes sir.”

“Very well. Your safeword is dilithium. I will show you how a Vulcan claims a submissive.”

In a moment, Spock had moved around to his front and was firmly dominating Jim’s mouth with his tongue. A surprisingly gentle hand ran up and down Jim’s side, and the other rested on his hip. Slowly, pressure was put on the chain linking his nipple clamps together. Jim held still as he was sure Spock expected despite the growing sting and ache. The pressure was released, then reapplied. Then again. Then again. His nipples were throbbing and over sensitized, and his cock was twitching with arousal. Spock dropped his mouth down and began licking around the clamp on his left nipple, fingers toying with the one on his right. Despite his best efforts, Jim tried to twist his chest away. His nipples had always been sensitive to this type of play. 

A low growl rumbled against his chest. When he froze, the mouth lifted up onto his pectoral muscle and white teeth clamped down sharply. Jim cried out, but held his place this time. Long seconds stretched on before the teeth released, but when they did, the mouth moved right down to his opposite nipple, licking and sucking with the same vigor that had been applied to its mate.

Spock pulled away, then stalked over to the door in the corner of the room. Jim, who’d had a few sessions in this room, knew that the door led to a storage room containing all kinds of toys and furniture to use in a scene. Spock returned with a low stool, a very large dildo, a riding crop, and a bottle of lube. He set the dildo and crop on the stool to Jim’s left, and then passed out of his line of sight. Jim’s ass cheeks were spread, and a tongue laved over his exposed hole. Long strokes up and down his crack gave way to slow, furling ones around his sphincter. Jim was moaning continuously, curling his toes and arching his back to press his hole more firmly against that clever tongue. 

Two fingers slid into his body, pressing firmly back towards his balls, then curled hard against his prostate. The sensation was electric, and Jim let out an undignified shriek. Slowly, the fingers curled and uncurled, massaging his prostate harder than he had ever experienced. A litany of moans, pleas, and garbled noises fell from Jim’s lips, but Spock remained silent and unyielding in his tortures. Pre-cum was steadily dripping from the head of his cock, dribbling down his length and pooling on his balls. 

As abruptly as it started, it stopped. Jim was panting and quivering in his bonds, head hanging low like a horse that’d been ridden too hard. A warm had reach up and removed the posture collar that was digging uncomfortably into his chin. Jim rubbed his cheek into the hand, which paused, then stroked across his forehead tenderly. 

Another hand was back toying with his hole. Slick fingers pressed into his body, left, and returned with more lube. This process was repeated until his entire crack was smeared and a trail of it was dribbling down his thigh. Jim shivered and wondered about what activity would require so much lube. He wasn’t in a good position to be fisted, and he didn’t think Spock would dive right into that, anyways. 

Spock moved to his left where the stool was still sitting. The lurid green dildo, which Jim could now see was one of the cone shaped variety was picked up and- was that a screw Spock was turning the base onto? Yes, the dildo was being firmly attached to the stool, lewdly pointing towards the ceiling. Jim suddenly realized where this game was going. He also realized that Spock was watching his reaction with dark eyes, having purposely positioned himself behind the stool to give Jim a small show and to build anticipation, which   
Jim had to admit was working. His eyes kept wanting to watch the dildo that shortly going to be used on him, then being drawn back to lock with Spock’s intense stare. 

“Here are the rules of the game we are about to play, my pet,” Spock reminded Jim of nothing so much as a panther watching a tasty morsel it was about to pounce on just then, “I will lower the rope tied to your wrists, and you will take the head of this phallus into your body. The rope will remain loose, and I expect you will not wish to take much more of the phallus in, as it is very large.”

Spock wasn’t joking. From experience Jim knew that he could take the whole thing, but he also knew that something that wide at the base would burn like a motherfucker just a few inches in, and it was rather long.

“I will not make you sit down any farther than that, and you may use the rope or what leverage you can get from your feet to keep you from sinking any farther so long as the head remains in you. However, you may not come until you have taken the phallus in its entirety, and I, of course, will be attempting to distract you,” Spock smirked. He moved the stool behind Kirk, and then lowered the rope, “Sit on the edge of the stool, Jim.”

Jim did, feeling the dildo press against his crack and lower back, his knees level with his belly button. The rope continued to lower until he could rest his hands on his lap. He sighed with relief. That position always strained his shoulders. He sighed again gratefully as strong hands massaged the kinks out of his shoulders and upper back. After a moment, a hand pulled on his upper arm, directing him to stand before shuffling him backwards on his bound feet to straddle the stool. Strong hands supported him under his armpits as he lowered himself over the dildo. 

Spock’s aim was perfect: the dildo pressed precisely against his hole at the right angle to penetrate him completely. He was directed to gather the slack rope above his head and squat the remaining few inches that it took for the head of the dildo to pop past his clenching pucker. Jim shifted a little, getting his feet under him and clenching the rope tightly while Spock supported his weight. He could only manage to balance on his tip toes, but Jim got his weight settled the best way possible.

“Are you prepared?” Spock asked. Jim nodded, and Spock dropped his hands and stepped back. 

The position was a strain, but Jim thought he could maintain it for some time. His thighs were necessarily spread wide, and his arm muscles flexed tightly. Spock moved around him a few times, taking in the view from all angles, slowly tapping the riding crop against his thigh. Jim breathed through his nose, closing his eyes and focusing on holding himself steady, then opened them to see Spock standing directly in front of him. The crop slid underneath the chain on his nipples pulling it taunt but applying only the tiniest bit of pressure. Every time he exhaled it gave the smallest of tugs, then trailed down his stomach. Crouching down before him, Spock began tapping the crop against Jim’s leg, then a sharp strike landed on each tender inner thigh. 

Hissing through his teeth, Jim’s thighs attempted to jerk closed, knocking him off balance for just long enough for him to sink half an inch onto the dildo. The new stretch still wasn’t bad, but it made him hyper aware of his hole. Impossibly, his dick hardened still more, and Jim moaned. Spock paused, then began a set of blows down his thighs, alternating sides. Sometimes they fell on the tops of his legs, closer to his knees. Others fell so high on his inner thigh that he could feel the breeze whipping past his tender balls like a promise. 

When there were at least a dozen red welts on his thighs and the dildo had gained another inch into his rear passage, Spock moved on. Another dozen strikes fell across his shoulders. Jim, seasoned from the hundreds of sessions in the Star Fleet Dungeons, managed to hold position for all of these. The crop moved down his body to stripe his ass, and every strike made Jim clench, slowly pulling the dildo further into his body and pressing it against his over-stimulated prostate. Quivering, Jim turned pleading eyes on Spock, who simply reached down and pinched a wheal on his buttocks. Jim lost a whole inch of ground on that one. 

By now, the dildo was at least halfway into Jim, and it was beginning to burn quite a bit. Spock reached under him to feel around his hole, ensuring that there was still plenty of lube. The fingers lingered to tickle and tease, making Jim clench and increasing the burn for a moment. A fingernail scraped his abused, red hole as he pulled away, and Jim squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating. 

Moving back in front of Jim, Spock used his index finger to pull back the tip of the crop and let it fly straight into his clamped nipple. Jim screeched like a scalded cat, but Spock still immediately did the same to the opposite nipple. Every muscle in Jim’s body was wound tight, and thankfully, this prevented him from slipping downwards. Spock moved away from his nipples, striping Jim’s chest with the crop, each strike making his chest, and by extension his abused nipples, jerk. 

Jim was drenched in sweat, liquid pooling in the small of his back and dripping down to sting the welts on his ass. Tears streamed down his face, and Spock leaned in to grasp his chin with the hand holding the crop, the thumb of his other hand brushing them away. 

“You look very appealing in your debauched state, my pet. Take a few deep breaths.”

Slowly the tears stopped flowing and Jim’s chest stopped heaving. His muscles ached, and he knew that he would be sliding down the rest of that dildo soon. The burning sting in his hole was constant now. Finally Spock deemed him ready to continue. Jim wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or not. His cock was crying out for release, burning as it hung out in the cool air of the room, but he also remembered Spock’s rule: no coming till he’d taken all of the dildo. He wasn’t sure he could take any more stretching. 

Spock knelt down in front of him, “Do you remember your safeword?”

“D-dilithium, sir,” Jim replied. 

“Good,” Spock said, then grasped his cock in a light hand, “You have two point four inches remaining before you may climax. I have an idea of how to get you there, but it will be… intense. Safeword if you must, but I want you to try to take it for me. Are you able?”

Jim eyes him warily, “Yes, sir. W-what are you going to do?”

“I am going to whip your penis and testicles.”’

Jim’s eyes went wide, “No, no, please don’t, sir! Please, I can’t-“

“You can,” Spock said firmly. Jim shut up when he saw the look in Spock’s eyes. Unless he used his safeword, this was going to happen. He braced himself as best he could, taking a new grip on the rope. 

Tilting Jim’s cock upwards, Spock lined the crop up against the base of Jim’s dick. Pulling back with just his wrist, Spock landed a back handed strike there. Jim howled. 

A tapping against his penis brought his attention back to the moment. Whimpering, Jim saw that Spock had lined up a second strike an inch or so above the first. Again he flicked his wrist. Jim was crying again, sobs hitching so hard in his chest the chain hanging from his nipples was bouncing against his chest. 

Three more strokes were carefully lined up and administered to Jim’s cock, leaving five evenly spaced stripes up the underside. The burn in hole was matching the stripes on his cock. All but a half an inch of the dildo was now in. Then Spock was tapping his sensitive sack. He gripped the skin on the underside, presenting Jim’s balls as two tightly wrapped sacrificial lambs. 

“Three strikes,” Spock pronounced. Jim shook his head wildly, and Spock raised a brow, “Something to say, my pet?” he asked gently. Jim wanted to say it. Oh, he wanted to say it. But he also knew that while he was distressed, he was not so far gone as to need to safeword. He struggled for a long moment, then nodded his head slowly. Jim really did want to be good for Spock. 

Spock almost seemed to smile at him, “Good boy.”

The first strike fell on an angle, catching most of his left ball and the bottom of his right. The second followed quickly behind, a little to the right of the first strike. Jim had bottomed out on the dildo at the first strike, but Spock wasn’t done with him yet. Pausing, Spock stroked the crop back and forth over the hurt skin before laying it at an angle opposite the first two stripes. The last stroke fell hardest, crossing the first two. Jim screamed till he thought his throat would give out, then screamed again when Spock’s mouth covered his tender dick. Three bobs of Spock’s head later, Jim was coming down his throat harder than he had ever come before, Spock’s tongue firmly massaging a fiery welt on his dick. His vision went dark for a moment, and then he was back, shaking like a leaf.

Jim floated as careful hands pulled him from his predicament, untying and unclamping and pulling his carefully from the stool. A blanket wrapped around him, and Jim found himself being carried back to a couch. A straw was put to his lips and he drank something that soothed his raw throat before he was pulled up in powerful arms against a lean chest. 

A clinking sound came in front of Jim’s face. When he opened his eyes, a beautiful gold collar was dangling in front of his nose. He reached up and turned the tag in the center towards himself. It read:

James T. Kirk  
Property of S’chn T’gai Spock

Jim’s breath caught in his throat. The collar was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. The flowing gold script, the tag with each end threaded through a heavy ring where a leash could be clipped, and the flat, brushed gold links of its body that were about the width of his pinkie nail all spoke to incredible care, the kind of collar given to a most treasured sub. Jim had never thought he’d wear a collar like that. Even when he’d been a kid daydreaming about the kind of top he’d want to belong to, he’d never pictured this. He’d seen marriage collars less ornate. He suddenly wanted that collar more than he thought he’d ever wanted anything. 

So why was he hesitating?

Spock must have felt his nerves through his skin, because he wrapped an arm around Jim’s waist and spoke quietly into his ear, “Here is my offer, Jim. If you accept this collar, we will begin a trial period of thirty days. During those thirty days, you will be my submissive in every sense of the word. We will share a plate, you will walk on my leash, and you will share my bed every night. If at the end of that thirty days you decide that this is not what you want, it will be as before. Doctor McCoy will still watch you, of course, but you will once again book your own Dungeon sessions, and no Dom will have any say in your life. But if you choose to keep my collar, I will cherish you. I will spend every day trying to make you happy, and I would be yours as you would mine.”

Jim stared at the collar and all it represented. He could picture it: Spock making sure he ate all his meals, making love to him at night, and waking up wrapped in someone’s   
arms instead of his cold, lonely bed. All his objections seemed flimsy in comparison. And hadn’t Spock just offered him an easy out if he didn’t like it? 

“Yes,” Jim said, equally soft.

Wordlessly, Spock lowers the collar around Jim’s neck and fastens it at his nape, and it was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little darker than most of the fic will be because Spock is trying not to scare Jim off. Don't worry, the siege of Jim has just begun! Try to remember, though, this is AU BDSM, and Jim is a pro at taking pain. This was pretty intense, but I think it fit into the broader context of the story. Thanks for reading!


End file.
